


From the Ends of the Earth

by lemonade29



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: (mostly), Canon Compliant, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Troy and Abed deserved a better ending than the one the show gave them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25770748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonade29/pseuds/lemonade29
Summary: Troy hates Skype.
Relationships: Troy Barnes & Annie Edison, Troy Barnes & Britta Perry, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 31
Kudos: 76





	1. Intro to Long-Distance Communication

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Community for the first time pretty recently, and was pretty distraught over Troy leaving Abed. So I wrote this mostly just to make myself feel better by fixing things for them.

Troy hates Skype. These days, it’s nearly impossible to get an internet connection, and what calls do manage to get through will buffer, the audio or video cutting out intermittently. But even when the video quality is decent, when they’re docked right by a city or staying in a motel, he hates it. It had been nice at first, getting to see Abed on the screen of his laptop. Getting to see everyone. As time went on though, first weeks and then months of the trip passing by, it felt less and less real. Daily calls turned into weekly calls, turned into once-or-twice-a-month-if-you’re-lucky calls, and at a certain point it just started making Troy’s stomach hurt with the sadness of it all, how much he was missing. Every time his friends would tell him stories about what was happening at Greendale, it felt like a punch in the gut. Jeff got in a fistfight in the cafeteria. Britta moved into Abed and Troy’s -- no, Abed and _Annie’s_ \-- apartment. They played Dungeons and Dragons again. _Without him_. Skyping just made him realize how lonely he was, just him and actor LeVar Burton and a boat on the open ocean.

Troy knows it doesn’t make sense to be angry about this. He’s the one who left, and he and LeVar have had plenty of adventures of their own (some better than others -- Troy still winces thinking of the two weeks spent held hostage by pirates in the Gulf of Mexico.) It’s just that when he'd left, he’d sort of thought his friends would wait for him before letting anything really important happen. That, Troy reasons, is probably why his heart had sunk when he’d Skyped with Abed only a few weeks after his departure, calling from Montreal. They’d talked for hours. Abed had filled him in on the latest news from Greendale, they’d discussed the latest episode of the American version of _Inspector Spacetime_ (which they’d both been hate-watching), and sometime around 1:00 in the morning, Troy had yawned and told him “I should go to sleep. We’re leaving early in the morning.” Abed gave a curt nod and blinked at him. 

“I have a girlfriend now.” Abed said.

Troy stared at him wordlessly. 

“Her name’s Rachel. She wears glasses and likes the same TV shows as me. She also operated a coat check at the school dance, but that was just a side plot that isn’t relevant to our relationship now.”

Troy continued staring at him. 

“You’re not saying anything.” Abed told him.

“Oh.” Troy said. “I mean -- That’s great, Abed! Congrats man.” He coughed awkwardly. “I gotta go. Talk to you soon?”

“Okay.” Abed said, and hung up.

***

Troy thinks about the call now, as they navigate the ship towards Morocco. They won’t be there long before moving onwards to Portugal, and then France, which is good, because before even arriving there Troy’s itching to leave. It’s not that he doesn’t like the traveling. Getting to see the world is _awesome_ , and getting to hang out with LeVar is super cool, though there really are only so many questions that can be asked about the making of _Star Trek: The Next Generation._ The sailing’s pretty fun, and Troy’s getting better at steering the ship. He really liked Canada, though it was too cold there, and Mexico was awesome (except for the whole pirates incident), and all the other places they’d been had been fun too. It’s just that it turns out that a year is a _really_ long time. They’ve only been gone for four months, and it feels like it’s been forever. And his friends have moved on without him. Abed’s moved on. He has _Rachel_ now. Dumb Rachel with her glasses and coats and side plots. Troy wonders if she and Abed have their own special handshake now. _No,_ he decides, _they’re probably too busy with gross kissing to have a special handshake. Not that kissing Abed would be gross,_ he thinks, _but Rachel’s probably a super gross kisser._ He tries to picture them kissing, imagines Abed leaning against their kitchen counter, head tilted down so he can reach Rachel’s mouth. Troy decides that Abed would place his hands carefully, one gently on the side of Rachel’s face, the other place more firmly in the center of her back. _Abed’s hands are always cold,_ Troy remembers, _but I bet it would still be nice anyways._

_***_

Morocco is pretty nice. So is Portugal. Troy checks out some cool monasteries while LeVar is off doing whatever he does when he’s on his own, and he goes to a cafe which is good except for when he sees a dude in an _Inspector Spacetime_ shirt and it makes Troy’s stomach hurt so bad he can’t finish his hot chocolate. France is also cool. They stop in Brest and Troy doesn’t even laugh that much at the name. He eats about a billion pastries, and goes to an aquarium which is awesome because he hasn’t been to one since he was a little kid. He watches episodes of _Friends_ on his portable DVD player on the boat and talks to Britta on the phone and wonders how much he’s missed that she forgot to tell him about. 

Once they leave, back on the boat LeVar tells him they’re headed to London next, and Troy begs him to let them skip it and just travel to Ireland instead. Of course, LeVar Burton doesn’t know that Troy and Abed had talked about going there together, or that stupid awful Toby who had locked Abed in a fake phonebooth lives in London and Troy didn’t want to run into him without Abed there to look out for him. LeVar agrees despite not knowing any of this, and the two sail onwards.

In Ireland, Troy talks to Annie. She Skypes him one evening and he tells her all about Dublin, filling her in on a week’s worth of travels. She smiles at him fondly through the screen and listens attentively, asking all the right questions and gasping appropriately at the more suspenseful parts of his tales. When he finishes recounting a particular exploit concerning an old Batman comic and an irate sheep, she nods idly, clearly having begun to think about something else.

“Troy...” she says slowly, the smile quickly falling from her face.

“Yeah?” he responds, heart sinking at the serious expression on her face. _Something terrible’s happened,_ he thinks. _Annie’s in trouble. Or Britta. Or Abed! Abed’s in trouble and there’s nothing I can do to help and what if he gets hurt? What if he broke up with Rachel?_ When he arrives at that thought, he considers slowly, _well maybe that one wouldn’t be so bad. But what if it’s something actually bad?_

At this point, Annie seems to notice the panicked expression on Troy’s face, and she rushes to reassure him. “No no! Don’t worry! Nothing bad happened! I promise.” She shifts uncomfortably. “But there’s something I want to tell you.”

Troy calms down at her soothing tone. “Oh okay. You know you can tell me anything, right Annie?”

“Yeah.” she says softly.

“Hey,” he says, as she stares down at her lap. “It’s fine. Take your time, you don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do want to tell you!” She insists, “I just...” 

Troy waits patiently.

“Imightbedatingsomeoneandthatsomeonemightbeagirl!” Annie bursts out suddenly.

“Oh cool.” Troy says. Then he scrunches his face in confusion. “Sorry could you say that again? You were talking super fast.”

Annie lets out a bit of a nervous laugh at that. “I’m… seeing someone.” She says delicately. “A girl.”

“Oh!” Troy says again, but this time a grin overtakes his face. “Annie! Congratulations! That’s awesome! What’s her name? Where did you meet her? Ooh does she go to Greendale? Does sh–”

“Her name’s Lexi,” Annie cuts in, blushing slightly. “She goes to City College. We met at a Model U.N. conference.”

“She does _Model U.N.?_ ” Troy nearly shouts, “She sounds perfect!” 

“Yeah she… she is.” Annie admits, smiling softly. Then she frowns slightly. “So you don’t think it’s weird that she’s, y’know, a girl?”

“Of course not!” He says quickly. To be honest, he hadn’t even really thought about that part. “No, I have nothing against lesbians. I love lesbians!” He insists, then he thinks about what he’s just said and corrects himself. “Not like, in a creepy way. And not that I’m saying _you’re_ a lesbian, because obviously it’s not up to me to uh… say.” He ends lamely, but Annie smiles anyway, giggling a bit.

“It’s okay.” She says. “I think I am a lesbian, and anyways I appreciate the sentiment.”

“That’s great Annie,” he tells her earnestly. “I’m really really happy for you.”

They spend the next few hours of the call talking about Annie’s girlfriend, Troy asking question after question and Annie answering (nearly) all of them, shy and awkward about it at the beginning but by the end they’re both crying with laughter as Annie tells him the story of her and Lexi getting locked in the Dean’s closet for an afternoon.

“I mean why did he even _have_ those in there? And why were there so _many_?” She finishes, which just makes her and Troy crack up even more. It takes them both a few minutes to compose themselves after Annie’s done speaking. Once they’ve both regained their composure (or at least, once Annie has), she tells him gently, “I miss you.”

Troy’s face falls somewhat. “I miss you too.” He confesses, feeling the familiar twist of sadness in his stomach. “So so much.”

“You should go to sleep.” Annie says softly. “It’s late in Dublin, and I’m sure you have places to be tomorrow.”

He nods somberly.

“I love you, Troy.”

“I love you too.”

“We’ll talk soon, okay? How about next Monday?”

Troy nods, Annie blows him a kiss through the screen, and then she’s gone, and Troy is once again alone.

***

Later that night, when he’s lying in bed trying to fall asleep, the question occurs to Troy: Why had the news of Annie’s girlfriend made him so happy, when hearing about Abed’s girlfriend had given him a week-long stomach ache? He ponders the matter for a bit. _Maybe_ , he reasons, _it’s because I pictured Abed and Rachel kissing, but not Annie and Lexi_. So he tries to imagine the two girls kissing, but for some reason it doesn’t work the same. For one thing, he can’t picture them as clearly as he could picture Abed. And no matter how much he pictures it, he still just feels happy for Annie, and sad about Abed. _It’s probably just because he’s my best friend, and Annie’s just my second best friend_ , he decides, but just before he drifts off to sleep, there’s a small voice in the back of his head nagging at him, telling him that it was so easy to picture Abed kissing Rachel because he’d already thought about how Abed would kiss a million times before.

***

Troy’s been traveling six months. He’s gone half a year without seeing his friends. He frowns, thinking about it, as he stands at the prow of the ship scanning the horizon for land. He and LeVar planned to be in Sweden by the following morning, and Troy is more anxious than ever to arrive on time, realizing how long it’s been since he was home. Plus, he really wants some meatballs. 

He stands there for a while, watching the point of the boat cut through the waves. Just thinks as he watches the water, not even doing an “I’m the King of the World” bit. (He’d done that months before, as soon as the ship had hit open water, but it hadn’t felt right doing a _Titanic_ homage without Abed there, so he hadn’t tried it again since.) After a while, LeVar comes over to check on him, laying a reassuring hand on Troy’s shoulder.

“Everything alright, Troy?” He asks.

Troy nods, eyes still fixed downwards. “It’s been six months.”

“Ah.” LeVar says, understanding instantly. He begins to say something, but seems to change his mind at the last moment, cutting himself off and instead asking carefully, “Have you spoken to Abed recently?”

Troy shrugs. “I guess so. I Skyped with him while we were in Greece, and I sent him some emails before we left Italy.”

“And how’s he doing? Still uh... making videos?”

Troy can’t help but smiling a bit at that. There’s something awfully surreal about LeVar Burton knowing bits of trivia about Troy’s friends.

“Yeah actually. He told me he was making a rom-com starring the pigeons that hang out by our apartment.” Internally, Troy kicks himself. _It’s not_ our _apartment anymore._ He reminds himself.

LeVar nodded wisely. “Very romantic birds, pigeons.”

“Yeah.” Troy replies dumbly, still not looking up.

“Look, kid,” LeVar says after a moment of silence between them. “I know you miss him. I miss my family too. Sometimes I wake up and ask myself what the hell I’m doing here. I mean I always knew Pierce was crazy, but this is on a whole other level. I mean, you’re just a _kid_.”

“That’s the whole point though.” Troy tells him, finally meeting his eyes.“I’m supposed to become a man or whatever on this trip. The heart of a hero and all that.”

“I know, I know.” LeVar says, nodding slowly. “But between you and me, I’d say you’re already more of a man than Pierce ever was. And I think he knew that too.”

“Then why’d he make me go on this trip?” Troy asks, suddenly frustrated.

“I really don’t know.” LeVar tells him honestly. “But it seems like a real dick move.”

Troy snorts at that, amused. “Well Pierce always was a massive dick.” He suddenly sobers up a bit, turning to LeVar. “Do you think I made a mistake, going on this trip?” He asks.

LeVar considers the question carefully. “I think he put you in a difficult position, but I think there was value in rising to the challenge. I’m proud of you, Troy.” He says, clapping him on the shoulder in a fatherly sort of way. “Hey!” LeVar says, peering out ahead. “I see land.”

As LeVar rushes to the wheel to steer them towards land, Troy allows his eyes to bug out comically, whispering to himself, “LeVar Burton is _proud of me._ ”

***

Troy wakes up disoriented, caught in the brief moment between being asleep and awake where it is impossible to make any sense of his surroundings. He lies still in the darkness, allowing the gentle rocking of the boat to remind him where he is. They’ve docked in a small port city on the coast of Iceland, where they’d arrived early that morning. Troy had spent the day exploring the small village, walking from the docks crowded with fishing boats to the tops of the grassy hills surrounding the area. He recalls the events of the day before his dream returns to him, but when it does he feels a rush of warmth in his chest. It had been quite simple really. In his dream, Troy was lying on the bottom bunk in the blanket fort, Abed curled against him. His head rested on Troy’s shoulder, and his knees were tucked up towards his chest. He had wrapped his long fingers loosely around Troy’s wrist, and Troy wrapped his other arm around Abed’s shoulders and carefully adjusted the laptop balanced on his legs, an episode of _Inspector Spacetime_ flickering on the screen. It wasn’t a specific memory exactly, though Troy certainly remembers nights spent similarly, but it felt like home. 

Troy squeezes his eyes shut, trying to cling to the last shreds of his dream as it slips away. Once it's gone, he feels so desperately, pathetically alone. It’s been months since he held someone like that. Troy had always been a tactile person, really, though he’d never had much opportunity to express it before Greendale. Before he met Abed. Abed, who everyone thought would dislike being touched, but who would lean into the press of Troy’s knee against his under the study room table. Abed who would lace his fingers through Troy’s as they walked together around the campus. Who would let Troy hug him when he was sad, and who would lie pressed against Troy as the two watched movies together during late nights in the blanket fort. 

As the dream dissipates, he misses Abed so much it hurts, a sharp, burning pain in his stomach. He misses Abed more than he’s ever missed anything in his life, and he is just so _alone._

Troy fumbles for his cellphone, grabbing it off the side of his bed. Ignoring the time displayed on the screen (4:09 am), Troy opens the call app and goes to his contact list, pushing frantically on Abed’s name.

“Pick up pick up pick up pick up please just _pick. Up._ ” He mumbles to himself, pressing the cool screen of the phone to the side of his face. “C’mon Abed, just pick up.”

The call doesn’t connect.

***

The cell service in Norway, it turns out, is far better than in Iceland. Troy sits criss-cross on his hotel bed, eagerly waiting for the Skype call to load on his laptop. After a few minutes, Britta’s face pops up on the screen, the patchy video quality doing nothing to diminish the effect of her beaming smile. 

“Troy!”

“Hey Britta.” Troy grins and leans back. “How’s it going?”

As usual, this question plunges Britta into a long-winded story about Greendale’s latest social justice crisis. This particular tale features an account of escalating tension culminating in Britta and Chang facing off in a makeshift boxing ring set up on the quad, and Troy just relaxes and listens to Britta speak. 

After about an hour of talking, they reach a lull in the conversation. Troy’s a bit sleepy. He always seems to be tired these days, what with the early mornings and late nights on the deck, and the uncomfortable bed he sleeps in belowdecks. He yawns and asks her, “Is Abed okay?” 

Something in her expression softens. “Yeah, he’s doing okay.” After a moment’s hesitation, she adds, “I think dating Rachel’s been really good for him.”

“Oh.” Troy responds hollowly. “They’re still together, then?”

Britta nods, and presumably before she can stop herself from doing so, asks Troy, “and how does that make you feel?”

Troy sighs. “I thought we had a deal. No therapizing, Britta.” 

“Right. Sorry.”

There’s a short awkward pause before Troy speaks, filling the silence. “And why would it make me feel anything, anyway? I mean it’s great that he has a girlfriend. It’s great that I left and he found someone else to watch TV with and he probably doesn’t even miss me now, which is _great_ because I’m the one who left in the first place, so of course he’d forget about me and start dating someone, and–” he stops mid-sentence. “No! No _therapizing._ ”

She looks at him, studying him. Britta, though entirely lacking in subtlety and self-awareness, can sometimes be shockingly good at figuring out how Troy is feeling. 

He holds her gaze for a moment, before slumping slightly. “God what’s _wrong_ with me?”

“Do you want me to answer that? Because I think it might violate the ‘no therapizing’ rule.”

“Britta. I think we’re pretty clearly way past that.”

“Okay...” she says slowly. “Well it sounds to me like you’re pretty upset about Abed dating Rachel. Is that right?”

Troy nods.

“Do you not like Rachel? Did something happen with you two before you left Greendale?”

“No,” Troy responds. “I’ve never even met her.”

Britta gives a small “hmm” as she thinks. After a moment, she asks him, “Do you remember when we went to Inspecticon together with Abed? And you spent the whole day upset because he was spending time with Toby and not you?”

Troy nods again.

“Well I think this is just like that. You’re jealous.” She tells him.

“Oh.” Troy says. “I guess that makes sense. It’s like Rachel’s his new best friend, so I’m jealous of her.”

“Yeah!” Says Britta encouragingly. “Except – Troy, you know you’re still Abed’s best friend, right?”

“Uh... I think so?”

“So there’s no reason to be jealous!” She exclaims, looking proud of herself for coming to this conclusion of her therapizing.

Troy is quiet for a minute, thinking about it. He knows that he and Abed are best friends, and it’s not like he really thinks Abed would make stupid Rachel his best friend anyway. But his stomach still hurts when he thinks about them together. Eventually he asks, “Do you think Abed will break up with Rachel when I come home?”

Britta tilts her head. “Do you want him to?”

Troy considers it. “Yes.” He admits.

“Ah.” She says. “Okay. Don’t be mad at me for saying this.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Not really, but tell me anyway.”

She sighs. “Fine. Has it ever occurred to you that you’re jealous of the person Abed’s dating because you want to be the person that Abed’s dating?”

“ _What?_ ”

She looks at him, something dangerously close to pity playing across her face. “Honestly Troy, that day at Inspecticon, when you rescued Abed from that phone booth he was locked in… I kind of thought you were going to kiss him.”

“You thought –- but I’m not -– Abed’s not -– I wouldn’t -– that’s not -– why would -– you can’t -–” Troy can feel his face flushing as he stumbles over his words, about a million different thoughts in his head fighting to make their way to his mouth.

“Hey! Hey, Troy, it’s fine. Calm down!” Britta says in her best therapist voice, but also like she’s a little afraid that she just broke him. “Take your time.”

He nods. Swallows hard before he speaks. “But you and I were together then.” He says softly. “I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“No, I–I know that.” She says. “And I’m not trying to accuse you of that. I know you wouldn’t. You were a great boyfriend.”

“Thanks.” He says flatly.

“It’s just that you and Abed were always different, y’know? You two would look at each other and forget that anyone else existed. And you’d been doing your crazy girlfriend bit all day, and when you got him back you two just looked so _happy_ , and I thought, maybe, there was something there.”

Troy thinks back to the day. The jealousy and sadness that he had felt all day, followed by rage at awful Toby, but tinged with vindication. _Troy_ was Abed’s best friend. Not Toby. Not anyone else. Troy. And when Troy had looked at Abed, his small smile beneath his bowler hat–

“Fuck.” Troy says.

Britta looks at him.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Troy says again.

Britta seems to sense that she may have gone too far. “Are you panicking right now?” She asks, sounding pretty panicked herself.

“Yeah.” He tries to steady himself with deep breaths. _This is fine. This is fine. This is fine._ He tells himself.

Britta watches him, clearly concerned. After a few minutes of this, she says, “I’m sorry,” looking like she really means it. “I guess I kind of Britta’d this.”

A few more deep breaths, and then Troy responds. “No, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He thinks about Abed again, and winces. “Honestly, I probably should have figured it out a long time ago.”

Noticing that he’s calmed down significantly, Britta switches back into nosy therapist mode. “And what is it exactly, that you should have figured out?”

“I hate you.” Troy replies, but there’s no heat behind it.

“C’mon, Troy! It’s important to verbalize your feelings and share your experience. This is all part of the process.”

Troy heaves a heavy sigh. Sometimes it’s less effort to just cooperate with her when Britta’s on a roll. “Okay fine. I, Troy Barnes, am in l–” He cuts himself off with an awkward, cearly feigned cough. “I have feelings towards Abed. Of the romantic variety.”

Britta claps her hands together, the very picture of barely contained glee. “Troy!” She squeals, “This is amazing! I did this! With my mad therapy skills.” She beams. “Oh my god! Are you going to have a sexuality crisis right now?” She places one hand solemnly on her chest. “Because I want you to know that as an adamant long-time ally of the LGBTQ+ community, I would be thrilled to help you through the process of discovering your own sexual identity.” 

Troy scratches the back of his head uncomfortably. “Uh. I think I’m good actually.”

“You’re not freaking out about your newfound gayness?” She looks a little disappointed by that.

“No, I’m. I’m okay with it. I mean, I’m not really okay with the whole thing. Because Abed’s my best friend and he’s dating someone and I’m in Europe, but um. I don’t think I’m going to freak out about maybe being a little gay?”

Britta looks mollified by him sharing more. “Well I’m very proud of you.” She tells him primly. “I think this really shows how much you’ve grown from our session together.”

Troy smiles at that. “Thanks, Britta.” He says, because it’s the easiest thing to say at the moment. “I think I’m gonna go now. Lots to think about and all that.”

“Of course!” Britta nods solemnly. “You should definitely take this time to reflect, maybe do some journaling, or some art to express yourself.”

“Okay, Britta. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight! I love you.”

“Love you too.”

And Troy hangs up, just as Britta begins to say something about a babbling brook.

***

_This is fine_. Troy repeats it to himself in his head over and over again as he tries to fall asleep that night. The hotel bed sheets scratch against his bare legs and the air conditioning unit is making a hacking, rattling sort of noise in the corner of the room. He could go and fix it, but he just doesn’t have the energy.

He’d been telling the truth earlier, when he told Britta that he wasn’t freaking out about being a little gay. Telling Shirley and his parents would be a nightmare, but they were on the other side of the world, and Troy wasn’t too worried about that yet.

The old Troy totally would have freaked out about being into dudes. But the past four years had changed him. He’d learned to accept himself, even the weird parts. _Especially_ the weird parts. Abed had taught him that. _Abed._ Troy finally allowed himself to think about him. To picture him at Inspecticon in his cosplay. He thinks about what Britta had said. He wishes he had kissed him. _Abed would have liked that_ , he thinks. _Even if he’s not into me like that, he would have appreciated it from a narrative standpoint_.

Troy imagines what it would have been like, at the convention. He would have stepped closer to Abed, maybe taken his hand, and Abed would have cocked his head like he does, looking down at Troy. He would have leaned in once he realized what was happening, silently permitting Troy to press his mouth gently to Abed’s. _Abed,_ he thinks, _is probably a fantastic kisser_. He smiles at that, but then frowns when it reminds him of Rachel. _Right. Because Abed isn’t even into guys. And he’s_ definitely _not into me._

But even though Troy knows this, he still falls asleep imagining the warm feeling of kissing Abed, one hand in his soft dark hair, the other wrapped around his waist.

***

The text comes about a month later, when Troy is adrift somewhere in the Kara Sea. He manages to get reception as they sail past a settlement on the coast of Northern Siberia. In straightforward Abed fashion, it reads simply: **_I broke up with Rachel. Talk soon?_**

As soon as he reads the words, Troy’s heart performs a maneuver somewhere between a somersault and a tap routine. With embarrassingly shaky fingers, he types back: **_im so sorry :( want 2 talk 2morrow? will be in pevek then._**

_**Okay** , _ reads the reply, and Troy’s heart swoops again upon seeing it, even though the message isn’t particularly exciting. _Abed is single. Abed isn’t dating anyone right now and neither am I and I want to date him_. It feels so simple when Troy lays it out for himself like that. But then he remembers that Abed’s into girls, and Troy’s on the other side of the world. _But maybe_ , nags a small voice in the back of his head, _maybe Abed’s into guys, too. He does always talk about how hot the Controller from_ Inspector Spacetime _is._

Troy continues the argument with himself for at least another 15 minutes before it occurs to him to call in reinforcements. Once it does, he whips out his phone and only hesitates for a moment before texting Britta for advice.

**_Yes!!! Tell him!!!!!!_** Instructs her swift reply.

**_but what if he doesnt like me like that? and then he wont want 2 be my best friend anymore and itll ruin everything_ **

**_It’s important to share your feelings. And Abed would never not want to be your best friend. Just tell him, what’s the worst thing that could happen?_ **

Troy’s seen enough sitcoms to know that that line is a classic tip-off that something is about to go horribly wrong, but he can’t get Britta’s encouragement out of his head.

The question weighs on his mind. Should he tell Abed? The more he thinks about it, the more likely it seems that Britta may be right: What’s the worst that could happen?

***

Troy’s always been a bit of an indecisive person. But by the time the next night rolls around, and he’s seated on his bed with his laptop in front of him, about to call Abed, his mind’s made up. He’s going to tell him.

He hits the call button and his heart begins to race as he waits for Abed to pick up. When his best friend’s face appears on the screen, Troy feels like he’s going to explode.

Without any preamble, Troy opens his mouth, and, at the exact time as Abed, says, “I have something to tell you!”

Abed cracks a small smile when this happens. Troy knows that he’d liked when they did things in sync. As a pair. A team. 

“You can go first.” Abed tells him.

Troy looks into his big brown eyes and cowers just a little bit. “No,” he says, “It’s fine. Your thing is probably more important. You go ahead.”

“Okay.” Abed says, shifting slightly. “Okay. Okay.” He pauses. Troy leans forward slightly in anticipation. His heart is still racing. 

“I’m moving to LA.”

In Troy Barnes’ twenty five years of life, he has never had his heart broken. There was Britta, and sure, breaking up with her made him sort of sad, but it was nowhere near heart-breaking. There was Randi, freshman year, but that had just sort of fizzled out. There were a few girls in high school, too, but Troy had never liked any of them enough to get too attached. So Troy has never had his heart broken, but he imagines it feels something like the ache in his chest that appears the moment Abed says those words. It feels like his sternum is cracking, his stomach twisting and burning. His throat feels tight.

Troy doesn’t say anything. He _can’t_ say anything. But Abed carries on talking.

“I mean nothing’s definite yet, but I’ve been applying for production and writing jobs for a few TV shows, and they’re all in LA. So hopefully I’ll be moving right after graduation.”

Troy nods absently, forgetting to listen as Abed continues.

“I’ll need to get an apartment. I might have to get new roommates. I’m not sure about that yet. Annie says she thinks I’m ready to start living alone, but also California is expensive, so I might have to share. Annie says she thinks I’m ready for that too, though.” Abed hesitates for a second. “Do you think she’s right?”

After a moment of silence, Troy realizes he’s been asked a question. “Sorry?” He asks weakly.

“Do you think I’m ready to move out of Colorado? To go live on my own? Somewhere new where I won’t know anyone?”

Troy looks at Abed. His eyes are wide in an uncharacteristic expression of vulnerability. Troy stares at his friend’s face and for one terrible moment thinks to himself that he could say no. Abed trusts him, Troy could tell him to stay, claim he doesn’t think that Abed could make it on his own and Abed would believe him. He’d stay.

Troy swallows heavily. He could make Abed stay. Abed could be home in Colorado, waiting for Troy when he gets back from his trip. Troy allows himself to picture it for a moment, arriving at Greendale to find Abed exactly the same as he left him. Troy could make that happen. All he has to do is tell Abed to stay.

But he can’t do that.

_Friends don’t lie._ He tells himself.

“Troy?” Abed asks, sounding concerned.

Troy clears his throat awkwardly. “Yeah. Sorry about that. Uh...”

“You don’t have to answer.” Abed tells him. “I just wanted to hear your opinion, because you’re my best friend and I trust you.”

Troy thinks he’s going to cry. 

He swallows again, trying his best to hold back his tears. “I think you’re ready.” He says honestly. 

Abed cocks his head slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Troy says, forcing a smile. “I think you should move to LA.”

“Cool.” Abed says. “Cool cool cool.”

Troy nods. “I’m really proud of you, buddy.”

“Thanks, Troy.” Abed says, a strange look on his face. Then he gives a small shake of his head and the expression drops off his face. “So what were you going to tell me?”

“Oh.” Says Troy. He’d almost forgotten. He weighs the options in his mind. He pictures Abed in some fancy TV studio, where he’s happy and has friends and wears blazers like a grown-up and doesn’t need Troy anymore.

“It’s nothing.” He tells him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure?” Abed questions him.

“Yes.” Troy says. “And also I have to go now.”

Abed tilts his head. “Now?” He asks. “We’ve only been on the call for a few minutes.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Troy tells him. “Bye.”

And he hangs up before Abed can say anything else.


	2. Growing Up 101

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm to everyone who left comments on the first chapter! you're all wonderful <3

The map is enormous. It sprawls across the table, corners draping over the edges so it’s almost like an oversized tablecloth. Troy fidgets with a Rubik's Cube while LeVar pores over the map, frequently pausing his examination of it to jot down something in a notebook before returning once again to the map.

On top of the map, towards the edge of the table, sits a stack of papers. Troy and LeVar had picked them up in a post office in Russia, where Pierce’s lawyers had sent them.

Occasionally, LeVar grabs one of those papers, comparing it to the map and whatever he had written in his notebook. Troy continues fiddling with his cube.

This goes on for some time, Troy’s fingers twisting the colorful squares while LeVar works through the various documents, his brow becoming increasingly furrowed as he does so. Eventually, he heaves a heavy sigh, leaning back in his seat and looking at Troy. 

“I’m sorry, Troy.”

Troy jumps, dropping the cube. “What?” He says quickly, his voice rising to a squeak. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I mean,” he drops his voice an octave. “What?”

LeVar looks at him sadly. “We’ve missed some checkpoints. Pierce’s initial instructions were pretty unclear, so thus far our journey’s been pretty disorganized, just stopping here and there.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means...” LeVar sighs again. “We’re going to have to backtrack a bit.”

Troy raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean _backtrack?_ It’s been ten months. We are going back, right? We’re supposed to go home in two months.”

LeVar sighs yet another time. Troy wishes he would stop doing that. “It’s going to be a bit more than two months.”

“How much more?” Troy demands, panic rising in his voice.

“At least another year. Probably longer. This list of checkpoints is pretty extensive, and we’ve lost time by being so random in our itinerary.”

Troy feels like the boat is spinning. He thinks he might throw up. _Another year. That means being gone for two years. Or more._

“I’m sorry Troy, I really am. I know you miss your friends. I miss people back home, too.”

Troy doesn’t respond. He wraps his arms around himself, tucking his head down.

“Troy?” LeVar asks gently.

Troy peeks his head up, and he knows he sounds pathetic when he speaks, but he can’t help it. “But why would Pierce do that? Why wouldn’t he lay out all the checkpoints at the start? Why,” his voice grows in volume until he’s almost shouting, “would he put those papers in _fucking Russia?_ ”

“I don’t know.” LeVar says truthfully. He looks Troy right in the eyes and his expression drips with pity and Troy _hates_ it. He stands up without a word, grabs his coat and marches off the boat. 

Outside, the air is freezing. The wind bites at Troy’s face, and he pulls the collar of his sweater up over his nose in an effort to shield himself from the cold.

He walks from the docks towards the more populated streets lined with small shops. He doesn’t have a destination in mind, just wants to get as far away from the boat as possible. He comes to a stop outside a small stone building with a wooden bench in front of it. He sits on the bench and pulls out his cellphone, grateful he’d stuck it in his pocket before fleeing the boat. He opens his contact list, finger hovering between **_annie <3_** and **_abed_** for a moment before decisively pressing the latter. 

He puts the phone to his ear and exhales shakily, and it’s so cold he sees his breath hanging in the air, right in front of his face. He listens to the ringing and prays that Abed will pick up, and by some miracle, he does.

“Troy?” Asks Abed’s voice through the phone.

Troy exhales in relief. “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”

“Alright. I watched the new X-men movie. It was okay.”

Troy nods absently, even though he knows Abed can’t see him. “Nice.”

There’s a brief awkward pause, which Troy hates. He and Abed never had awkward pauses before. There was always something to say or do, and when there were quiet moments, they were always comfortable. Now, it feels like they don’t know how to talk to each other anymore. 

“Why’d you call me?” Abed asks, puncturing the silence.

Suddenly, Troy feels embarrassed. “I... um… it’s dumb.”

“I’m sure it’s not.” Abed says reassuringly. “What is it?”

Troy kicks at a pebble on the ground in front of the bench. “I was just upset.”

“Did something happen? Are you okay?” Abed asks immediately, sounding worried. It makes Troy feel a bit guilty, but it’s kind of nice hearing that Abed’s worried about him. Knowing that Abed cares about him.

“Okay so, we got to this post office in Russia, where we were supposed to pick up these documents that Pierce’s lawyers had sent over, and the documents have all of these requirements we’re supposed to be meeting for the trip in order for me to be able to actually get the money at the end, and pretty much we’re gonna have to go back a bunch, and we…” his throat begins to feel tight and he’s suddenly teary, “we won’t be back for at least another year. Probably longer.”

The ensuing silence between them is unbearable, but Troy can’t bring himself to break it. Neither of them speaks for a minute. Then another. Troy doesn’t know how long it’s been since he finished speaking.

“Abed?” He asks tentatively.

“Sorry. I have to hang up now.”

And the call ends.

***

That night, Troy lies awake in bed, not even bothering to try and stop the tears. He’s back on the boat, because of course he is. It’s not like he has any other choice. 

After Abed had hung up, he’d sat on the bench for another hour or so, just thinking. After a while though, his fingers got too cold and he didn’t want to worry LeVar, and he knew he’d have to go back eventually, so he walked back to the boat, boarding it without speaking to LeVar, who was still sitting by the table with the map. LeVar had looked up and nodded at him in acknowledgement, but hadn’t tried to make him talk, which Troy had appreciated. He had spent the remaining hours of the day texting Annie, and silently helping LeVar prepare for their departure. He’d been determined to avoid thinking about Abed, and how much he missed him, and how he wouldn’t get to see him for another year, or maybe he just wouldn’t see him again _ever._

So Troy didn’t think about that during the day, but once he was alone in bed, it was all he could think of. 

He rolled around awkwardly, kicking at the sheets half heartedly as they tangled around his legs. He tried to quiet his brain. That used to be easy for Troy, just not thinking, but not anymore. Now he lies awake in bed, playing the conversation with Abed over and over again in his head. “I have to hang up now” echoes in his head, bouncing off the insides of his skull. He doesn’t cry. Just lies there and tries to fall asleep and fails to not think about Abed.

***

He dreams about Abed again. This time, when he wakes, he doesn’t cling to the dream. Just tries to push past it, refusing to linger on the imagined memory of their bodies pressed tightly together, a movie playing on the television and its light flickering faintly in the background.

***

The day after his conversation with Abed becomes the first in what feels like a poorly edited montage, alternated between monotonous days at sea and lonely days spent wandering foreign cities alone. He eats haggis and falafel and pierogies and couscous and bratwurst and hardly tastes any of it. They travel to so many cities and towns and villages that they all blur together in Troy’s mind, and it doesn’t help that he’s so _tired._ He’s up late docking the ship or preparing for the following morning’s departure, awake early in the morning to man the sails or plot their next stop, and in the precious little time he has to himself, he tosses and turns uncomfortably in his bed in the boat at night. He still speaks to the study group, but the calls become less and less frequent as the months pass.

The one year anniversary of Troy’s departure comes and goes, and still they sail on. 

He talks to Abed on the phone, the voice in his head shouting _I love you I love you I love you_ on a loop. Troy’s not afraid to think it anymore, now that he knows it’s too late to ever tell Abed. 

He talks to Annie. She’s applying to an internship in Washington D.C.

He talks to Jeff and Britta and Shirley, smiles genuinely when they tell him they’re doing well and then forces a smile when he tells them that he’s also well.

They sail on. 

Abed gets the job. Annie gets the internship.

Troy is still at sea.

***

Troy is exhausted. He lugs his backpack into the motel room and drops the bag on the floor, collapsing on the bed. He’d been up all night, manning the deck to give LeVar a chance to rest, and when they’d finally docked they’d gone straight off the boat, Troy heading immediately towards the nearest bed he could find on dry land. 

He lies immobile on top of the blanket, his shoes still on, and stays there for god knows how long. He’s almost drifted off, fully clothed with the lights still on, when he realizes his phone’s ringing. It takes him so long to register what’s happening that he misses the call, but when he groggily looks at his phone screen and sees Abed’s name he automatically taps the screen to call him back, forcing himself into a seated position, shoulders resting against the bed’s headboard. 

Abed picks up on the first ring. “Troy?” He asks.

“Hey buddy!” Troy answers him, stifling a yawn.

“Hi.” Abed says shortly. He pauses, then says, “I’m leaving in nine days.”

As is usual whenever Abed mentions leaving, Troy’s heart sinks. 

“I know!” Troy says, doing his best to sound as cheery as possible. “That’s pretty exciting.”

“Yeah.” Abed says. “Yep. Yes. Cool.”

“Right.” Troy says awkwardly. “Is that why you called? To tell me that?”

“Yes.” He answers. Then, “No.”

Troy rubs his eyes. “So what’s up, then?”

“I wanted to ask if you’d be back by then.”

Troy sighs, and it’s like suddenly he’s so sad he forgets to be tired. “No man, I – I’m sorry. I’ve still got a while to go. I can’t go home that soon.”

Abed is silent on the other end of the phone.

“I’m sorry.” Troy says again, though it doesn’t feel like nearly enough. He wishes he could be there with Abed. He wants to see Abed’s face without it being distorted by a screen, hear his voice not through a microphone. He wants to wrap his arms around him and rest his head where it fits perfectly in the space where Abed’s shoulder connects with his neck. 

His throat tightens and he can feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

When Abed finally speaks, it feels like a punch in the stomach.

“You’re not coming back.” Abed tells him. It’s not a question. Not a command. Not even quite a statement. It’s somewhere between a realization and a confession and a surrender. As though he’s simply giving up.

“What?” Troy says, not bothering to mask the hurt in his voice. “Why would you say that?”

Abed answers blankly. “Because it’s true. The study group’s over. This is the last season, and you’re missing the finale.”

Troy lifts a hand to his face and realizes it’s wet with tears. “Don’t say that, Abed.” He says, pleading. “You know I’m coming back to you. I’ll always come back to you. Homing pigeon genes, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Abed replies softly. “But that wasn’t real. And it’s time for me to grow up. I can’t keep pretending.” His voice breaks on the last word, and Troy’s never heard him sound like that before. It terrifies him, and he feels like his chest is caving in and he thinks for a moment that he might just die from how sad he is.

“It’s okay, Troy.” Abed tells him. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to make it to the finale. I called to tell you it’s okay. I’m letting you go. That’s what you’re supposed to do with the things you love.”

Troy chokes out a sob. “I love you too.”

“I know.” Abed says, and it feels so familiar, Troy’s head swims with it. He lets out another sob. 

“I don’t want you to let me go.” Troy tells him, fully crying at this point.

“I know.” Abed says again. “But it’s time. We’re having our own finale, now. I’m going to LA to make shows, and you’re going to keep traveling and become rich, and this is the end.”

Troy can’t respond.

“It’s okay.” Abed’s voice cracks a second time as he says it. “It’s fine.”

“I love you.” Troy tells him again, not knowing what else to say.

“I love you too.” Abed replies quietly. “I’m going to go now. I’ll try to call you once I’m in California, okay?”

“Okay.” Troy says, because it’s all he can say.

Abed hangs up. Thousands of miles away, Troy lies back down on the motel bed. He falls asleep quickly, without turning off the lights or removing his shoes and clothes.

***

He doesn’t dream of Abed that night.

***

When morning comes, the sun shines unbearably bright through the dusty window, and Troy groans and drags himself from the bed in order to lower the blinds.

The memory of his conversation with Abed the night before returns to him slowly, piece by piece. He sits down. He wonders if LeVar is up yet.

Then he kicks his shoes off, crawls under the blanket, and goes back to sleep.

***

The second time he wakes, Troy grabs his cellphone to check the time. The display reads 12:49 and he reluctantly stands. His eyes feel raw from crying, and his head aches faintly, likely for the same reason.

He quickly changes into the extra set of clothes he’d brought in his backpack, sends LeVar a quick text, hoists his bag, and heads out.

Outside, the sun beats down on him, and he sweats in his hoodie. He pushes on though, weaving over cobblestoned roads past small shops and statues. He walks past benches and trees and cafes with couples seated at the small yellow tables outside.

After about half an hour of walking, he finds what he’s looking for. Birds flock around the fountain, pecking at the ground. The fountain is made of carefully sculpted bronze, not at all like the one at Greendale, but he decides it’ll do. He swings his backpack off his shoulder and fumbles in the small front pocket before finding a small handful of coins. It’s a mix of currency from different countries, none of the coins the familiar American ones, but these too he decides will suffice. He grabs a Euro and tosses it into the fountain’s blue-green water, and Troy Barnes makes a wish.

***

There are three days left. In three days, Abed will go to LA, and Annie will go to DC, and Troy will miss the finale. 

He’s sitting on the wooden boards of yet another dock in some foreign city. LeVar is on the boat, preparing it for their departure that evening, and Troy is seated criss-cross on the ground, tossing bits of stale bread to the seagulls bobbing in the water right by him. 

His phone rings, and he can’t decide whether he wants for it to be Abed, or desperately hopes it isn’t him.

He tosses the remainder of the bread into the water where it’s quickly gulped down by one of the larger birds, and pulls out his phone, swiping to answer the call when he sees Annie’s name on the screen.

“Hi Troy!” Annie says perkily when he picks up. “How are you?”

“I’m okay, I guess.” Troy says. “I miss you.”

“Aww,” she coos, “I miss you too!”

Troy relaxes a bit, arching his back so his spine pops and then leaning back casually. “So… three days left. Are you excited?”

“Yes! The internship helped me find housing so I already have an apartment lined up, and obviously it’s just an internship, but there’s a really good chance I could get promoted to an actual real job there within a few months. And DC’s so great, and –” Annie pauses suddenly, cutting herself off and changing tone. “I’m scared.” she confesses. “I’ve barely even left Colorado before and now I’m going to be all on my own in a new city and what if I’m terrible at the job?”

“Annie,” Troy says, “You won’t be. You’re going to be _amazing_ at it. They’re gonna be so glad they hired you, and you’re gonna make tons of new friends and you’ll be so happy.”

“Thanks, Troy.” She says in a small voice, sounding a bit teary. “What about you?” She asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you happy? Traveling the world must be great, right?” She asks him, and Troy’s surprised at the question. He thinks to himself. _Am I happy?_ He’s traveled to small towns and quaint villages and gorgeous, sprawling cities. He’s climbed mountains and swam in lakes and one time he ate so many churros that he puked, which was pretty awesome. 

But he’s also more tired than he’s ever been in his life. Some days it feels as though his very bones are heavy with exhaustion. Some days he’s seasick and homesick and he misses his friends so much it hurts. He misses Abed like a piece of him is missing. Like he doesn’t know who he is without that piece.

“No.” He says, so quietly he wonders if Annie can even hear him.

Apparently she does hear him though, because she murmurs “Oh.” And is then silent.

“I’m not happy,” Troy says, more to himself than to Annie. “I miss him.”

“I know.”

“No, I – I _miss_ him. I love him and I’m here and he’s going to California and I’m never going to see him again.”

“Oh, Troy.” Annie says softly. “Of course you’re going to see him again.”

“But it won’t be the same,” he protests, “Like. Okay, fine. Maybe I’ll go see him in a few years, once I get back. But he won’t be the same Abed anymore. And I won’t be the same Troy.”

“But Troy, that’s just growing up.”

“Well I don’t want to grow up without him!” He says it louder than he means to, and his eyes sting with tears, and he regrets saying it immediately. 

_I don’t want to grow up without him_. He turns the words over in his mind, knowing they’re true but kind of wishing they weren’t.

Annie gives a small sniffle. “Have you told him that?” She asks, as kindly as possible.

“I can’t.” He says immediately.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s going away. Because I already _am_ away. Because he needs to go and be a successful TV person and I need to stop holding him back.”

By now, Annie’s doing an exceptionally poor job of masking the fact that she’s crying, but so is Troy, so he certainly isn’t one to judge. 

So they sit together, continents apart, and they cry.

“Troy?” She asks tentatively after a few minutes without either of them speaking.

“Yeah?”

“What if...” Annie pauses, choosing her words carefully. “What if you came back?” 

“I told you before, I’ve still got like at least a year left of this trip.”

“Okay but…” She sighs shortly, and then seems to change her approach slightly. “Why did you go on the trip in the first place?”

“Because Pierce left me all his money and told me to go sail around the world to get it. Duh. You were there at the will reading.”

“Right, I know. But what are you going to do with all that money?”

_Huh._ Despite having spent over a year in pursuit of the fortune, Troy had never really considered what he would spend all that money on. “I don’t know.” He says honestly. “I guess I just thought I had to go after it. To be a man or whatever.” Even as he’s saying it he knows how empty it sounds, and he thinks back to LeVar telling him he’s already a man. He’s thinking about this and about how mean Pierce could be and about how much he misses Abed, and he barely even notices that Annie’s speaking again, until he hears her ask him firmly. “What do you _want_ Troy?”

He thinks about playing football in high school with his team. About taking classes at Greendale with the study group. About the fourteen months he’s spent traveling the world with LeVar Burton. And he decides.

_I want to watch TV with Abed._

***

LeVar is surprisingly understanding. If anything, he seems pleased when Troy tells him. Proud. He doesn’t say much, just smiles, rises from his seat at the small table, goes to take down that enormous map from where they’ve hung it on the wall, and furls it into a tight cylinder. Troy grins.

***

It’ll take them about three weeks to make it back to the states. Not nearly enough time to get there before Abed leaves, but it’s okay. It would be nice to orchestrate a “dramatic running through an airport to confess his love” trope, because Troy knows Abed would like that. But this will be fine. He tells himself that, over and over again as they sail. 

_This will be fine_.

As they journey towards California, Troy feels better than he has in months. He sits on the deck at night looking at the moon, wondering what Abed’s doing in LA. He listens to the water and lies on his back and waits.

_This will be fine_.

He tells Annie what he’s doing as soon as he decides to abandon the trip. He doesn’t tell Abed though. He can’t quite bring himself to, because that makes it real and there’s a tinge of uncertainty, a fear that Abed won’t want him back or that he’s making a mistake or that they’ll be kidnapped by pirates again and won’t make it back.

So he doesn't tell Abed.

***

He falls asleep one night on the cool wood of the deck, and wakes groggily as the sun just begins to peek over the horizon. He rubs at his face and remembers his dream, which had been about Abed. It’s not unusual; he’s had plenty of dreams about his best friend over the past few months, but as Troy rises and goes to stand behind the ship’s big wooden wheel, he realizes it’s the first time in a long time that dreaming about Abed hasn’t made him sad.

***

The days go by at a timeless pace. Troy thinks it’s the longest three weeks of his life, but after twenty days straight of sailing, the night before they’re due to arrive, he feels as though it’s passed by in an instant. 

LeVar had turned in early, leaving Troy to navigate since he realized Troy probably wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. He bid Troy goodnight with a clap on the shoulder and a wide smile, and left him to his own devices.

LeVar had been right about Troy not wanting to sleep. He had never been less tired in his life. He paced the deck for what felt like hours, anxiety rising as he contemplated everything that could go wrong the following day. He hadn’t spoken to Abed in nearly a month. What if Abed wasn’t actually in LA? What if Troy couldn’t find him? What if Abed already had a new best friend and didn’t want to see Troy?

He tries to stay calm, letting the questions wash over him as the boat cuts gently through the waves.

_This will be fine._

When the sun rises over the ocean, and land is just barely visible on the edge of the horizon, Troy begins to feel even more jittery. Sort of like that time he accidentally drank five espresso shots in two minutes. But with even shakier hands. And more thinking about Abed and his slim fingers and his delicate wrists and dark hair and long neck.

Troy watches the sky as he steers the boat and tries not to think too much about anything. That used to be easy for him, to clear his head instantly and just let his brain fill with a nice pleasant static, but now he can’t push the thoughts out of his head. _Maybe that’s growing up_ , he thinks as he carefully readjusts the wheel.

***

After what feels to Troy like hours, he finally reaches the port at Santa Monica. As soon as the boat is anchored, he rushes belowdecks to wake LeVar, and to grab his bags, which he hauls up as LeVar dresses.

He dumps his bags unceremoniously towards the prow of the ship, and pulls out his cellphone with trembling fingers. He opens his contacts list and selects Abed’s name, bringing the phone to his ear and trying to steady his racing heartbeat.

Luckily, Abed picks up the phone, and at the sound of his “Hello?” Troy’s breath catches slightly.

“Abed!” He exclaims, his throat dry. “Hey!”

“Hi.”

“I uh... um.”

“What is it?”

Troy is suddenly speechless. How do you tell your best friend that you abandoned millions of dollars just to come see them, and you didn’t even bother to tell them you were coming? 

“Could you do me a favor?” Troy asks, because it seems as good a way as any to begin.

“Sure.” Abed replies easily. “What is it?”

“I’m...” Troy feels painfully awkward, but he continues. “I’m in Santa Monica. By the beach. Could you come pick me up?”

Troy is in love with Abed Nadir. He has been for years, and he’s known it for months now, and him loving Abed is simply a fact of life. As easy and natural as breathing. But Troy decides he’s never loved Abed as much as he does in this moment, when Abed instantly replies, “I’ll be there in an hour. Just wait there.” 


End file.
